Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Motorcycles have always appealed to me. I've spent my life dreaming about how awesome and badass I could look if only I ever met someone who would teach me how to ride without killing myself or separating my legs from the rest of my body. Much to my delight, a friend of mine recently bought a bike and even offered to let Chris and I try to ride it.

I was fricken thrilled.

Just the mere thought of me potentially learning how to ride a motorcycle had me googling the sexiest chick bike outfits I could find, and plotting out which helmet would make me look the coolest. Chris was pretty excited, too. I assume not to the same degree - after all, he didn't google sexy chick bike outfits - but it had been a desire of his, too.

So our friend came over, brought the motorcycle to our backyard, and showed me how to work it, then told me to try and do circles in the grass.

This is what happened:

I hardly made it a whole foot before I stalled it and toppled over.

Chris on the other hand...

... is a giant douchebag who is naturally amazing at whatever the hell he touches. I think I might even be dating a robot.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Does anyone else find Dora a bit NEEDY? Like seriously, where would she be without me? She couldn't even count to 5 in Spanish without my help. And I'm always doing favours for her and getting NO credit. Like today, she needed me to help her open the door to the treehouse, because it was stuck, right? She and Boots couldn't do it by themselves, so I join in and, bam! the thing opens, right? But for some fucking reason, everyone starts screaming "HOORAY DORA!" and I'm like... wth?!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

There are three types of people in the world: Dog People, Cat People and Sad, Lonely People. Dog people are stereotypically happy families, bitter old men, and sometimes, sadistic teenage boys. And then there's cat people, which tend to be more like lonely elderly women, people who go brain dead at the sight of a furry little kitten, and pedophiles.

Personally, I have always been a cat person. Ever since I was young, whenever I see a cat, a wave of exuberance mixed with loss of cognition has washed over me. I could be in the middle of a completely intelligent conversation and be brought down to a vegetable state at the mere sight of a feline.

And it's this trait of mine exactly that caused me to completely destroy the life and happiness of my eldest sister's cat.

His name was Mittens. Actually, I have no idea what his name was, Mittens was just the first thing that came to my head. Regardless, Mittens was a happy cat. He loved sunshine, smiles, rainbows and rollerskating. He danced with unicorns and had ambitions to become the first cat Prime Minister of Canada.

He had a bright, happy future ahead of him, until he met me.

But I did what any other eccentric, cat-loving kid did, and "over-loved", which is the nice way of saying I chased, cornered, and mauled the shit out of that cat until it hated all of humanity and spent the rest of it's life plotting destroy me and all of mankind in whatever way it was capable.

But if you're shedding tears for Mittens, you can stop right now. Because I can assure you that even after growing up and attempting to reconcile with Mittens, he made sure to get his revenge and successfully tortured me throughout my adult existence.